


none but the brave

by hardlygolden



Category: Mindy Project
Genre: Banter, F/M, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hardlygolden/pseuds/hardlygolden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The thing is, Mindy’s a decent doctor. She also happens to be the most annoying person Danny has ever met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	none but the brave

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Steph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steph/gifts).



> Written as a Yuletide treat - enjoy!  
> Title is Springsteen, because: Danny.

The thing is, Mindy’s a decent doctor. She also happens to be the most annoying person Danny has ever met.

He knows the feeling is mutual – knows it for a fact, because yesterday, she said ‘Danny, you are THE most annoying person I have ever met.” She’ll probably say it again tomorrow, too, and he knows she means it every time. They drive each other crazy – always have, always will. It’s rapidly becoming the status quo of Danny’s life, and they’re not above hitting below the belt, when things get too much – jabs about Danny’s divorce and Mindy’s various insecurities, both instinctively lashing out at the other’s weakest points when things get too real. That’s just talk, though, nothing more than two people who know each other well pushing each other’s buttons. It’s a game they both play, and play well, and at the end of the day, it’s just a game.

Still, right now, Mindy is being more irritating than usual, and the worst part is, he feels like an ass because he knows it’s only because she’s worried about him. Still, after the third time she asks, he’s had enough.

“Danny,” she says, again. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the emergency room?”

“You know not all ER doctors look like George Clooney, right?”

“Yes, Danny, that was one of the first things I learnt at med school. Then I also learnt a bunch of other cool things, like how to be a doctor and deliver babies and run my own medical practice.”

“Co-run,” he corrects. “Co-run a medical practice.”

They stare bleakly around the wrecked waiting room of their particular medical practice. The reception area is still a mess from Morgan’s crash-tackle, which Danny will have to thank him for later.

Jeremy’s over in the corner, talking to the police officer, Shauna and Morgan are trying to re-order the chairs and Betsy’s on the phone cancelling the rest of this afternoon’s appointments.

Danny rolls back his shoulders, stretches his arms and sighs. “Seriously, Mindy,” he says. “Let’s just do this.”

“Okay,” she says. She’s still holding the clipboard in front of her like a shield.

“C’mon, it’s just a couple of stitches. You’ll be fine.”

“Of course I’ll be fine,” she says, automatically. “You’re the one that’s bleeding.” She still hasn’t moved.

He raises a hand and tentatively touches his sticky temple. “I’m alright,” he says, because he is.

“Head wounds bleed a lot,” says Mindy, and Danny rolls his eyes.

“I’m aware."

“Hey, why don’t you get Jeremy to stitch you up?”

“Jeremy’s filing the report with the police. Besides, you’re neater,” says Danny.

“Aw, Danny – vain much? Don’t want to mess up your pretty face?”

“Mindy,” he says, and she glares at him.

“Chill, Castellano,” she says, and just like that, she’s in action, directing him into a consult room. She has her hand on his shoulder, which is ridiculous, because he is taller than her, but he lets her guide him, doesn’t shake her hand off.

“Thanks, by the way,” she says, once they’re sitting down. “It was totally unnecessary to go all he-man and protect the women-folk, but thanks.” She is leaning in close, so close he can see the ridiculous eyeshadow she is wearing, a metallic pastel that probably has a name that sounds more like confectionary than cosmetic. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and she’s wearing her glasses, frowning in concentration. She looks tired.

There are bruises on her wrist in the shape of a hand. He frowns. “You should put some ice on that,” he says suddenly.

Mindy looks down. “Oh,” she says, as if she hadn’t noticed them before. Perhaps she hadn’t. She tugs her coat sleeve down, and they disappear from view. “They don’t hurt. Besides, remind me again which of us is the one bleeding from the head?” She taps his forehead – hard - to emphasise her point.

Danny winces.

“Sorry,” says Mindy. She still sounds upset.

“What was the deal with that guy, anyway?” Danny asks, aiming for a casual tone. “Psychotic ex-boyfriend?”

Mindy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, actually.”

Danny tries to hide his surprise. He obviously doesn’t do a very good job, because Mindy’s eyes widen and she slaps his shoulder. “Not _my_ ex-boyfriend, dumbass,” she corrects. “When I was examining one of my patients last week, I noticed the bruises. She didn’t want to talk about it, so I just started talking about Rhianna's interview on Oprah the other week, and on her way out I gave her a card for a local woman’s refuge. It sounds like she must have gone there, and her boyfriend wasn’t too happy about my interfering." 

Danny is reminded again that Mindy is much more than meets the eye – she’s superficial except for when she isn’t.

It was the shouting that had made Danny rush out in the middle of his consult - even though it had sounded like Mindy was giving as good as she got. When he'd rounded the corner he saw Mindy standing toe-to-toe with a hulking man in a suit who was screaming obscenities at her. Mindy was standing her ground, and Danny had already started walking towards them when the man grabbed Mindy's wrist in a punishing grip and raised his fist as if to strike - and suddenly Danny was moving faster than he'd moved since college, inserting himself between them. 

That was when the man had picked up the tray from the reception desk and hit Danny in the temple with it. Danny doesn’t remember much after that, just Mindy screaming and a blur to his right, which must have been Morgan.

Danny would have reacted that way if anyone was threatening one of the staff – he would have done the same if it was Shauna or Betsy or Jeremy. It doesn’t mean anything, and he hopes Mindy isn't going to make a big deal out of this. 

“You did the right thing,” he says.

“Of course I did,” says Mindy, and her shoulders relax slightly. “I’m sorry you got in the middle of it, though.”

“I put myself into the middle of it," he says. "It's not your fault."

“I took self-defence classes as soon as I moved to the city. I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Danny says, because he does.

“Yeah.”

“Well, tell you what, next time you can save my ass.”

“Deal,” Mindy says. “But for now, my friend, you can have some awesome stitches. You did want the pink stitches, right?”

He glares, and she grins.

“Nobody’s ever crash-tackled someone for me before,” says Mindy. “It was kind of sexy.”

“Does your definition of sexy include head wounds?” Danny asks. He’s suddenly tired, and shuts his eyes.

“Um, ego much?” says Mindy. “I was actually talking about Morgan.”

“Oh,” says Danny. Mindy’s quiet now, as she works. He can feel the push and pull of the stitches, her fingers on his forehead, the plastic feel of her gloves.

He hasn’t opened his eyes yet, but from the sounds he can hear he knows Mindy has put the scissors down. He keeps his eyes closed and hopes the stitches aren’t pink.

Mindy’s hands are very gentle.

“Although, to be fair, you were doing pretty good before that guy threw that surgical tray at your head,” allows Mindy. “And don’t worry, chicks totally dig scars. Well, biker chicks anyway. And what guy doesn’t love biker chicks, am I right, Danny?”

“Right,” he mumbles. Maybe he is a little woozy – he’s feeling light-headed and for once the sound of Mindy’s incessant chatter is soothing instead of a low-grade migraine in the making.

“I’m totally kidding,” she says. “Well, not about the biker chicks, but you’re not going to have any scars. Because I? Am an awesome doctor, and I just stitched the crap out of your face.”

“Thanks,” Danny says, and means it. He opens his eyes. Mindy is looking at him with concern. As he goes to stand up, he sways slightly, and Mindy grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down.

“Not so fast, Mister,” she says – and then for the fourth time: “Are you _sure_ you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

He scowls at her.

“Seriously, Danny,” she wheedles. “Think about it: hospital jello, hot nurses, shiny MRI machines. You were unconscious for a few minutes, and you haven’t said anything remotely jerk-like for at least ten minutes. Clearly you are concussed.”

“You had me at jello,” he deadpans.

She pauses, and then her eyes light up with glee. “No way did you just misquote Jerry Maguire at me!” she crows, and it’s hard to feel annoyed when Mindy’s beaming at him like that.

 


End file.
